


The Only Choice Is (You Have To Sing To Survive)

by LunarLullabies



Category: The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: I don't really know what this is, I'm just writing and hoping for the best, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2019-10-11 00:03:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17436029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunarLullabies/pseuds/LunarLullabies
Summary: After the infected drag her away, Emma can only think of Paul.  What if he had gotten out?  What if he was there to help her now?  Well, maybe he is after all





	1. Chapter 1

Her cry pierced through the hoard pulling her away.  Emma did her best to kick away with her bad leg at the... _things_.  She couldn’t call them her friends, or acquaintances, not anymore.  Not even Paul. He had his arms around her shoulders, dragging her away with the rest of them.

 

_God_ , she felt tears stinging her eyes as she fought.   _He had gotten out; it was him.  He was safe and they could get out of there._

 

_But he isn’t Paul.  Paul died._  He wasn’t going to save her.

 

Emma closed her eyes, sure the creatures were going to force that blue goop down her throat.  She didn’t want the last thing she would see as herself to be the bright blue eyes of the man she trusted.

 

_Those eyes._  He looked crazy.

 

Did he know what happened to him?  Was he aware? Was he frightened?

 

She sure was.  She didn’t want to die, she especially didn’t want to become a mindless singing zombie.  Or hurt anyone else.  But it didn’t matter what Emma wanted. Emma Perkins was already dead.  So was Paul Matthews.  All that was left was Kelly Samuels and Ben Bridges.

 

As far as she was concerned, Ben Bridges was dead to her too.  He was a beautiful, familiar scam she could never have. Not anymore.


	2. Chapter 2

“Emma.”

A quiet voice spoke to her.   _God_ , she thought, _I must be crazy.  Maybe I’m dying. If I didn’t know better that almost sounds like-_

 

Paul.

 

“Emma, we have to go!”  It was Paul. Emma opened her eyes to meet his, frantic and worried.  That familiar, calming blue she remembered. He helped lift her to her feet and held her arms for a moment, just as he had when they were first reunited.

 

“Paul?  What’s going on, I thought you were infected?  Where am I? What’s the -”

“Shh, Emma.  I’ll explain later.  Right now, we need to get out of here, okay?  It isn’t safe. I think there’s an escape route in the basement.  It was this kind of an urban legend at Sycamore, kids would talk about it during lunch.  I really hope it’s true.”

 

Emma had only been half listening.  The last time she had seen Paul, he was singing.   _Singing._  This Paul was just like the one she had escaped Hatchetfield with, ready with a plan.

 

_A plan to kill me._

 

How could she trust him?  Her Paul, the musical hating, awkward, wonderful and sweet Paul Matthews she knew was dead.  He died with the meteor, and the rest of Hatchetfield. She backed away from him, shaking her head.  Paul ran his thumb over her hand.

 

“Emma, please.  I know you don’t trust me, but we need to go right now.  Here,” he placed a gun in her hand. “This way you can fight back if I pull anything, alright?  Trust me now? Come on.”

 

She could shoot him.  She could shoot him then and run out of wherever the hell she was.

 

_Don’t be stupid.  That might be Paul, I don’t know.  God damn, I don’t know! Get a grip, Emma.  Paul or not, he might be the only chance you have to get out.  He knows where you are. Follow him._

 

Slowly, Emma nodded her head and tightened her grip on the gun.  She took Paul’s arm and let him lead her through a door. She kept the gun pointed at his back as she limped alongside him.  As they walked, Emma thought she could hear a faint humming.

_Paul._


	3. Chapter 3

The basement was cold and dark, not seeming any better after the two had managed their way down.  Emma had followed Paul throughout the building, trusting him to keep them out of the path of the infected.  As they walked further down the hall of the basement, the cold dusty air in a choke hold around Emma’s throat, they came across an old door, bolted shut.

 

“Damn!  It’s real and of course it ends up being closed.”  Paul let out an exasperated sigh. Emma wanted to go up to him, wanted to grab his hand and tell him that they would find a way out, but how could she?  This man wasn’t someone she could trust. Still, she took a step closer.

 

_Paul -_

 

She fell to the ground, a cry escaping her mouth.  In an instant, Paul was by her side.

 

“Emma!  Emma, what’s wrong?”

“My leg gave out is all.  I’m fine.” She tried to stand up, only to go right back down.

 

“Emma, sit down for a minute.”  Paul helped her lean against the wall before standing up and walking a few paces back through the hall.  “Good, your yell didn’t seem to make them come this way. Not yet, at least. Are you sure you’re okay?”

 

_What is he trying to do?  God damnit, now you’re hurt, trapped in the basement with him.  Jesus fucking Christ, Emma! You just got yourself killed._

 

Paul’s eyes turned sympathetic, as though he had read her mind.

 

“Emma, I’m never going to hurt you.  Besides, you still have the gun.”

 

“Paul?”  She didn’t want to talk to him, but it wasn’t like she had anything else she could do.  Might as well get some answers. “Paul, where are we?”

 

“The Clivesdale hospital.  We dragged you out of your room, but we’re still here.”

 

“How did I get out?  How did you, they said there were no other survivors?”

 

Paul sat down beside her.  “After the meteor, after McNamara never reported back, they sent more soldiers.  They found your body next the helicopter. They brought you with them. They found me at the theater, pinned against the wall.  They thought I was dead too. We were in the new helicopter together, I woke up before you, they told me what happened. Colonel Schafer found us, she’s the one who arranged our new names, our new lives.”

 

“Paul, are you infe-”

 

A soft noise from the end of the hallway cut off her sentence.  It quickly rose louder and louder, crescendo-ing into a monumental chorus.  She could see their eyes in the dark, blue and glowing.

 

**_Join us and die, join us and die._ ** All of their voices, thundering and echoing in harmony throughout the otherwise silent hall.

 

“Shit, shit they found us!  Paul!” Emma fought to stand up.  Paul bounded to his feet, helping to lift her up.  He gripped her hand.

 

“Emma, I need you to run, I’ll hold them off.  This door is no use, focus on getting upstairs as quickly as possible.  Go!”

 

With the gun in her hands, Emma slipped through the hoard.  She felt their hands grab at her, but her ears were pounding, deaf against their song.  She felt herself pull the trigger at one point, only half aware of clipping “Ted’s” shoulder, before she was past them.  She looked behind her for a moment, scanning for Paul, before returning her attention to limping up the stairs.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Emma found herself in the lobby of the hospital.  Leaning against the check-in desk, she began looking around at the barren hospital.

 

_Why is there nobody here?  Did they -_

 

She couldn’t finish her own thought before she finally started crying.  Two weeks ago, she had been a barista at a shitty coffee shop. Overnight, she was fighting for her life with a man who had cut through all the shit and made her remember what it felt like to belong.  Now everyone is dead in Hatchetfield, and by the looks of it, Clivesdale too.

 

_Maybe Professor Hidgens was right.  This was the end of everything.  What I would give to feel like I belonged again, to have things be okay again._

 

She let her tears fall freely, something she hadn’t let herself do in years.  Not since her sister died did Emma cry. She looked at her hands, covered in cuts from fighting away from the infected.  Her shorts and shirt, the same as she wore to work, with the ribbon tie practically choking her. She had gotten out of Hatchetfield, that had to count for something, right?  She let herself feel the cold metal of the gun, running her fingers against the textures.

 

_Maybe this would be a better way to go.  Not like I’m getting out of this alive, anyway._

 

She wanted to, but something stopped her.  A voice in her head told her she couldn’t do that to herself.  Still, it was just her own brain, she could make it be quiet if she wanted to.  But this wouldn’t be silenced. This voice felt like her own, and completely foreign at the same time.  Then, an all too real sound came from the other side of the hospital. Rising to her feet, Emma pointed the gun towards to the source of the melodic sounds.  As they came more clearly into view, Emma could see him.

 

Paul.  Right in the front of the group, a smile on his face as he joined in their haunting chorus.  He walked further ahead of the group, closest to her than the others. When he was at the other end of the room, so close to her, he stopped.  Emma wanted to shoot at them but that damn voice was back, telling her not to. She watched as the others approached her, the people she had known and some new faces she had never met.  A woman in a nurses uniform and her old boss Nora had her by the shoulders, knocking the gun from her hands. Emma closed her eyes as she felt a pair of hands tighten around her throat.

 

“Stop.  We don’t need to do this anymore.”  A quiet voice cut through the blood pounding in Emma’s ears.  She felt herself drop to the ground and air rush back into her lungs.  Opening her eyes, she was once again met with Paul’s. He took her hand, and a far too painful and familiar sound escaped his lips.

  
**_“Emma, I’m sorry.”_ **


	5. Chapter 5

“ **_Emma, I’m sorry.”_ **

 

Paul held Emma’s hand and she felt herself give up hope.  Every time she took in a breath, it felt wasted. Her leg still hurt, becoming infected due to the lack of care the “nurses” gave her.  And Paul was still there with her, keeping the others at bay. In the quiet of the hospital, it was almost nice just hearing him sing to her, even if it was the same song that told her that Paul was gone.  

 

“Please tell me what’s going on Paul.”  The singing stopped.

 

“Emma, sshhh.  It doesn’t hurt, it isn’t scary.  I’m happy, you can be too. Don’t you want to be happy with me, Emma?”

 

“Paul-”

 

His blue eyes, his smile.  Everything came back to her:  Seeing him every day at Beanie’s, his panicked meltdown when everything started, him risking everything to help her.  How he had almost kissed her.

 

_ I would do anything for him to just kiss me and make this chaos go away. _

 

It was like Paul had read her mind.  He lifted her chin with his fingers, and things felt like they should have between them.  There was no singing, no voices, no screaming. Just Paul holding Emma’s face in his hands.  For once, she wasn’t afraid of it anymore.

 

_ Maybe then it can all be over.  The professor was right. Maybe now we can all have peace. _

 

In an instant, their lips were together.  Everything flooded away and for one perfect moment, Emma was truly happy.  And then she felt something changed, and the distant sound of music began to flood into her ears, growing louder and louder.  Pulling away from Paul, Emma looked up at the people she once knew. She heard herself speak freely for only a moment, and once the words left her mouth, Emma Perkins felt herself slip away.

 

“The apotheosis is upon us.”


End file.
